


And with only the vultures to mark his passing

by Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Death, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Super heavy gore, how do I explain myself, oh yeah, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth/pseuds/Teethteethteethteethteethteethteeth
Summary: Party Poison goes SPLAT and dies
Comments: 47
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

He’s surprised he’s even still awake. Must be an effect of the adrenaline. How lucky. Idly, Party Poison trails a finger through the blood pooling on their skin, swirling little circles until their arm spasms and drops back to the ground. He laughs, gasping and wheezing, blood bubbling up from behind cracked and broken teeth. Nobody’s coming for them, nobody save for the vultures already shuffling their feet along their perches, leaning bony necks over to watch what’s left of Party Poison. 

“Hey, birdies,” he whispers, and one of them flaps off, circling a few times before returning to its place. “You coming to eat me? Lucky you, I’m still all warm and tasty.” He breaks off into laughter again, that turns into strangled choking as something goes wrong in the wreckage of their throat, of their lungs. “Who- whoopsie.”

The vultures don’t care. Nobody cares. That’s okay. Party Poison has accepted their inevitable fate. Kind of a pretty place to die, actually, high rock walls parting to reveal the painfully blue sky. A shame all his blood and bits of bone are ruining the view. Or maybe they enhance it? Party Poison tries two, three times to grab at a shard of bone, picking it up in a hand that shakes, not from fear or any other emotion, but from weakness and damage staticking white-hot through his nerves. The static, he can feel, but not much else. At least the ringing in his ears has gone quiet (has everything?), leaving Party Poison alone with his thoughts and the impassive beaky hunger of the vultures. 

When does Party Poison cease being Party Poison? Was it the moment they fell, toppled off the edge of the canyon, or was it the moment he hit the ground, bone and soft tissue and _soul_ bursting open like an overripe fruit? Or is it when their gasping breaths stop thrashing through their ruined ribcage, bones coming up through their skin as a prayer, face stained blue as an apology. 

He was wrong, you know. The other three do find him. It would’ve been better if they didn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

Kobra finds him, first. And it's only a moment between their scream and when their boots hit the canyon floor, more jumping down than climbing down. They're at their brother's side only moments later, but no matter how fast he gets there, it's far too late for Poison. They've been cold and dead for hours, now, broken beyond repair by their fall. Kobra pulls Poison's head into their lap, rocking back and forth in their grief, half-screaming, half sobbing. Cherri Cola, Kobra's partner in the search for Poison, follows soon after.

"Kobra, I-- I'm so sorry, Kobra." He lays a hand on their shoulder, and Kobra moves away, not angrily, but a rejection of his comfort nonetheless. Cherri sits beside him (beside him and Poison's corpse) in silence. 

"What do we do?"

"Sorry?" Cherri blinks, startled out of his thoughts. Kobra waves their hands at Poison's blood and guts, strewn across the canyon floor.

"What do we do, what do we do, _what do we do_!"

"Shit, Kobra, I--"

"What do we do?" Kobra brings their bloodied hands to their face, still whispering, "What do we do what do we do what do we do," as Cherri stands up. 

"I'm going to radio the others, tell them it's time to stop looking." He walks a couple hundred feet away, before dialing Jet Star and Fun Ghoul, in the Trans Am. "Hey. We--"

"Cola! How goes it? I figured out how to--" There's sounds of Jet Star grabbing the radio from Ghoul, and Cherri wants to cry.

"Ghoul, pipe down, they might've found Poison!"

"Yeah. I-- We're at the canyon out in Zone Three."

"Cola?" Ghoul must have picked up on the tone of Cherri's voice, because their own voice is small, quiet. "They're _okay_ , right?" Cherri hates himself for it, but he clicks off the radio without another word. 

He doesn't rejoin Kobra, leaving him time alone with his brother, and maybe again it's because he's a coward, or maybe it's the right decision. Maybe both. It doesn't matter. The Trans Am pulls up soon enough, and Jet and Ghoul know before they're even out of the Trans Am what's happened. Ghoul rushes over to Kobra, draping an arm across his shoulders, and this time, Kobra accepts it, hands shaking, gestures small as they sign something to Ghoul, too far away for Cherri to see. Ghoul signs back, sobbing. Meanwhile, Jet Star quietly vomits, and Cherri knows he should go to em, but he's frozen, staring at the gory wreckage of Party Poison.

They bury them, as much of them as they can scrape off the rocks. When Cherri finds a bone fragment (from Poison's ribcage, maybe?), it's his turn to vomit, and his turn to be comforted by Ghoul, who offers Cherri a hug, expression vacant. Cherri ducks into Ghoul's arms, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too, Cherri."

Kobra buries his mask beside Poison. Ghoul and Jet each silently add a string of bad luck beads, and Cherri hesitates, unsure if he should as well. In the end, he decides against it, and the four of them return to the radio station in silence. Cherri heads out to the back porch immediately after, not wanting to bear witness to the Girl learning of Poison's death. He ends up worrying the string of beads he'd wanted to give to Poison, twisting the string until it breaks, wooden beads scattering across the sand. Cherri scrambles to pick them up, and he's on his knees in the dust as D comes to join him, crutches thudding against the dry wood boards of the porch.

"Hey, D." Cherri's voice breaks, but he doesn't look up from his beads. 

"Cherri. Do you want to talk?" 

"No."

"Okay. Do you want a hug?"

"Yes." Cherri doesn't move.

"Leave them. They're just beads, it's okay. It's okay." The quaver in D's voice says otherwise. Cherri gets up, listlessly brushing dust off his pants, and D closes the distance between them to wrap him up in their arms. D's crying, Cherri feels him shake, and Cherri breaks down as well.

"I can't-- I just-- He's dead, D."

"It never gets easier. He's with the Witch now, and I can only hope it's better, there." Cherri doesn't reply for a long time, clinging tight to D.

"I hope so, too."


	3. Chapter 3

" _Witch_ , am I dead?" Party Poison sits up, laughing hollowly. It's dark, sandy, and cold, no different from any moonless night in the desert, but Poison remembers all too well the sensation of their spine, their ribs crumpling and tearing through his body. He remembers all too well the creeping cold of his blood draining from his body. He remembers all too well the way dying feels.

"Yeah. You went fuckin' _SPLAT_!"

"Who..." The Witch washes into Poison's field of vision, bending at what might be her waist to look Poison in the eye. "Oh."

"You've gotta be careful around cliffs, you know. Might fall." She giggles. Poison slumps back onto the featureless sand, sand that dissappears from Poison's field of vision not three feet from their body. 

"Fuck. Kobra..." Poison rubs at their eyes, trying not to cry, then pulls their hand from their face. "Shit, you can get sand in your eyes here?"

"You can. I don't have eyes." She chuckles again. "And don't worry abo-- Actually, worrying might be apt? But Kobra sends their regards." She sticks out a clawed (hand? talon?) appendage, dropping something onto Poison's chest. He picks it up-- Kobra's red domino mask. Poison hasn't had the chance to process what it means when the Witch tosses a pair of bracelets at him, one landing in his lap, the other bouncing off his face. 

"Ow."

"You're dead, dear."

"It still hurts," Poison mutters, eyes welling up with tears again as they look down at their brother's mask, Jet Star and Fun Ghoul's bad luck beads. There's a smear of blood on Ghoul's bracelet, and he knows it's his. "Can I see them? Am I going back?" The Witch shakes her head.

"You're dead, dear."

"Yeah, but-- But you brought Jet back! Why not me?" They wipe at their eyes again, sniffling. "I want to go back."

"Different circumstances. No, you're here for the long run, I'm afraid." The Witch sounds almost bored, and Poison whimpers. 

"It's not fair."

"Fair! He wants it to be fair! Well, what you want doesn't matter, not anymore. There's gonna be _quite_ the adjustment period for you, so I'll leave you now to get started." She moves backwards, and fades away, and Poison stumbles to their feet to follow after her, clutching the beads and mask to their chest. They step forward, and nothing changes. Another step, and the slight ridges of the sand move with them. Poison can only see three feet in any direction, and as they stick an arm out, their fingertips go blurry, fading into the surrounding darkness. Poison cries out in frustration, dropping back down onto the sand. 

And there he lies, alone, for the next forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Hhhi  
> Leave a comment below, and come find me on tumblr @wishiwasthemoon-tonight


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